To the pits and the mills down each working-class street
We all went to graft with clogs on our feet
Now the mills have closed down and the mines have all gone
But the sound of those working-class clogs lingers on
They closed all the pits, but so we wouldn’t forget
The mining gear in concrete they did set
They get coal from Poland, and if we want to see ’em
The relics are shown in a mining museum
The clattering cotton-mills employed folk by the score
But the looms and the people are not there anymore
They’ve been turned into apartments for the rich and the bored
That working-class folks in their clogs can’t afford
The derelict steel-works that stand ’round this town
Show it’s the working-class people who have been let down
If we don’t work for peanuts until we drop dead
They bring in the immigrants to do it instead
As Mosques replace Churches and traditions disappear
We who have faith, we have nothing to fear
We’ll rise and we’ll fight in each working-class street
Alongside the ghosts with the clogs on their feet.

"Perhaps the oddest thing about the experts and police chiefs and reporters and editors and tenured professors who constantly tell us that these black-on-white atrocities aren’t racially motivated, is that blacks don’t believe that for a second. They know that they are racially motivated, they say so, and they celebrate them for it."
- Nicholas Stix